


Tales of Hope from Heroes of the Dark Millennium

by CiaphasKhaine



Category: Destiny (Video Games), Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Anthology, Hope spots from an unexpected place, Lots of one-shots, Not connected with my other crossover, To be updated when I feel the sudden urge to write strange 40k/destiny crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-01-29 03:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaphasKhaine/pseuds/CiaphasKhaine
Summary: In the grim darkness of the far future, there is more than war.There is hope, and there are heroes.Heroes to defend the helpless.
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

She had been alone for so long. Alone with this other...thing. Together the two had been fighting for as long as she could remember. Possibly before that, even. Maybe forever. She was purity of essence, and It was purity of form, both with nothing in common but contempt for the other.

She had moved from place to place, people to people, searching for anyone who could aid her in their battle. So far this had proven itself to be a fruitless search. She was even beginning to think it to be useless. That even if she, somehow, found someone, that she would still lose. She had more victories than It recently, but they were still too few and too late. Hope had little place here now, being just misplaced and useless optimism.

And then arrived an unknown variable. 

It wasn’t a bright, violent glow as she was, but it still illuminated its path in a golden light. And like her, it too had a form. 

A man, shattered. Not broken or mangled as bodies could be, but as if he was a mirror that had been broken by a blow from a hammer. His skin was pulled tightly around his bones, his hair was spotty and scorched, his eyes were tired, worn from untold aeons of conflict, and his face was that of a man who had known nothing but illness. He was dressed in little more than a sash which ran across his frail chest and around his waist, resting on the exposed and visible edges of his hip bone. 

And on his head he wore a broken crown, with edges that stabbed into his forehead.

She knew he was very old. She worried that he might even be shattered further should he involve himself in their battle.

He looked at her, his tired eyes meeting her vibrant gaze.

His golden irises showed her nothing but confidence as the flames within them blazed wildly. 

He took two steps towards them, standing by her side, and the shattered man clenched his atrophied hands into fists and put them atop one another. 

And within his palms manifested a golden blade that burned with an unstoppable flame. 

Something to tip the scales.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bar owner encounters a strange patron hours before the fall of the City.

When the Red Legion came for my bar, I thought it was over. I had always kept a gun under the counter, yeah, but it was never loaded. And if you thought I could aim, you were a damn fool. They kicked down my door and blew apart a few of my patrons and I thought I was next.

Then they knock down the drink of the biggest motherfucker I had ever seen.

He had been around for a few hours, initially I thought he was a guardian but he didn't have a Ghost with him, or at least didn't show it the entire time he was there. Guy wore armor that made a tank look puny and drank enough to kill most men, it was impressive to watch him just drink gallons upon gallons of beer. Man looked like a proper warrior, through and through. Had a helmet with a topknot that looked like some sort of twisted, fucked up mask. When he took it off his face looked like something out of a pre-dark age metal album, with an eagle tattoo on one side of his head and a thunderbolt on his left cheek. The tasteful mohawk didn't help him either.

He stomped over to the bar, slammed his helmet onto the counter, and said a single word to me in the deepest, meanest sounding voice I had ever heard.

"Beer."

And who was I to ask him for money? I felt like I had a healthy degree of respect for him and his sword that was thicker than my chest and his gun that had a barrel so thick it could have comfortably fit my fist inside it and still had some wiggle room, so I poured him a beer. He would continue to only demand beer his entire stay.

Anyway, back onto the Cabal ruining my life.

They come in, blow apart my patrons, hold me at gunpoint, and knock over this guy's most recent beer which was still foaming at the top of his cup. A centurion yells something at him while holding a gun to his temple, and he just laughs.

The guy moved faster than I could keep up with and shoves his sword-more like a large knife in his oversized hand-into the thing's head. He proceeds to kick it in the chest, completely decapitating it by the way, before yanking out this massive slab of metal from the dead chunk of meat it was connected to and throwing it into the chest of another Cabal, hitting with enough force to pin it to the wall behind it.

He pulls out his gun from it's holster and blows fist sized holes into the most of the others. He doesn't even aim, he just does it. I guess he thought that he had dealt with all of them, so he puts his gun back into it's holster, and then the wall is destroyed by a hail of bullets. Fucker took a single scratch from one of them grazing his cheek.

Now I had heard rumors about colossi, how teams of guardians had almost died taking them on. I never thought any of it was true but god did I wish that was the same now.

The guy just growls in annoyance.

He turns towards the Colossus, fists clenched, and charges it. It takes all of three blows from his bricks of fists to knock this absolute titan onto its ass. I thought, maybe, he was going to shoot it.

He grabs it by both sides of its head, shoves his thumbs into the eye sockets of its helmet, and proceeds to crush its head in its grasp. It struggles for all of three seconds, but stops with a disgusting 'crunch.' He drops it, then wipes the bloody chunks of grey matter and blood onto his thigh armor before swaggering back into my bar, grabbing and putting on his helmet, and nodding at me and then saying one last thing.

"Thanks for the drink."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dreadnought encounters the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So this is slightly, kinda, involved with my other fic, the Emperor's Will. It's not super canon within it though, just something I had an idea for and wanted to get out.
> 
> Warning for spoilers about Xared's background for anyone who bas already read that.

"Think of your potential." Was the whisper. "So much strength, all wasted on a shattered creature that is unaware of your existence." 

The Dreadnought knew this lie well.

"**MY STRENGTH IS MINE TO USE.**" He boomed. "**I WOULD RATHER DIE FOR THE MAN I PLEDGED MYSELF TO THAN LIVE A THOUSAND LIVES AS A BETRAYER.**" He continued, afloat, but crippled, in the realm of black and white.

"Perhaps there will be no betrayal. Perhaps you can still serve, but you must strike against that Gardener." The voice proposed. "Your power will be known to Him."

The Dreadnought listened. 

"Lend your strength to us, and you will be gifted fame, power, glory. The things you crave." It moved around him. "No betrayal needed. You have sworn nothing to this liar, to its spawn."

He listened.

"Give in." It beckoned. "Let your power surge-"

"**HAVE YOU CONVINCED YOURSELF I AM A RELIC SEEKING SAVING?**" The Dreadnought broke from the voice's grasp, and it recoiled- skittering away from the golden light that burst from his sarcophagi's seams. His gaze fell upon the wispy shadow the voice came from, and it flinched.

**"I AM THE LAST ANCIENT OF MY ORDER. I AM THE FINAL LOYAL SON**." More light. "**I AM NO BETRAYER, NO HERETIC, AND YOU WILL NOT HAVE ME."**

"You struggle."

"**YOUR PLOT TO SEIZE MY POWER INSULT ME. I HAVE RESISTED STRONGER, BOLDER ATTEMPTS. YOURS IS NOTHING TO ME.**" Light screamed from him, and for a moment the voice within the sarcophagi was heard. 

"**I REJECTED THE CALL OF THE WARMASTER. THE CRY OF CHAOS.**" The light began to peel away the black paint of his coffin, revealing a dark emerald-green hue beneath the black. Shapes began to reform themselves along his form, reforming armor and icons and symbols, most notable of them all being the large, slit irised red eye that was boldly placed upon his chest.

"**I AM XARED, CAPTAIN OF THE FIFTEENTH COMPANY OF THE SONS OF HORUS, BROTHER OF THE WATCH, AND I AM NO DECIEVER.**" Xared rose, his power restored and his body in its prime.

"**NOW RELEASE ME BEFORE I KILL YOU, CREATURE.**"


End file.
